


How to Tell People You're Dating Your Brother's Killer

by lornrocks



Category: Fandom: Heroes
Genre: AU, Carnival, Clothes, Drama, F/F, Hospital, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Slash, Swearing, Tattoos, but people like it so whatever, facebookstatuses, i originally had this off my lj, petlar, pylar, season4, super ooc, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 00:48:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lornrocks/pseuds/lornrocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Read the title. So pretend this is an AU where everything in season 4 happened except Claire's little moment. Also, apparently, Peter has tattoos and everyone knows everyone and no one is homophobic. To be honest, no idea what's up with this. None. It's mostly just crack and romance and drama and I don't even know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Tell People You're Dating Your Brother's Killer

**1\. Tell people about it.**

"Sorry we're late," Peter is saying, as he and Gabe walk into the bar and sit down at the table Noah Bennett is currently perched at. "We were fooling around with each other and lost track of time."

Noah doesn't even look up from his phone, just mumbles, "Funny." Peter spares a glance over at Gabriel, who just shrugs. Their conundrum is soon forgotten, however, when the rest of their group shows up and everyone starts to drink and relax.

"What did you say you were doing?" Noah asks, a little red in the cheeks, and Peter runs a hand through his hair.

"I was sucking Gabe's cock, that's what- that's what I was doing." His speech is only a little slurred but judging by the way he's now leaning against the man in question, he's pretty far gone.

Noah just nods sagely, not even reacting, and Gabriel can't help but chuckle internally. He just knows the other man will forget all this by morning, so he's not worried Peter is going around telling everyone just how fantastic their sex life was. No one believed them, anyway.

It's not until Peter tries to get under the table and give them all a demonstration that Gabriel tugs him home and tries to put him in bed.

**2\. Change your Facebook status.**

Claire hums to herself as she checks her FB homepage, seeing who has posted new updates. She could care less about her friends' results on "What wedding dress are you?" but she does like to see what's going on.

A certain update catches her eye and she smiles as she clicks into the comment box under her uncle's name.

 _You're now in a relationship, huh Peter? Who's the lucky girl?_ she types, smiling as she hits the post button. Gretchen, who's looking over her shoulder, laughs, prompting the ex-cheerleader to look up.

"I'm not so sure that your uncle's new paramour is a woman, Claire."

"Why do you say that?"

Gretchen shrugs one shoulder and smiles a secret smile.

"I have excellent gaydar."

Claire contemplates this and shrugs it off, not really bothering to care either way, until the next few days, Peter's profile becomes filled with random snapshots of him and a man who looks suspiciously like Sylar, smiling together and looking pretty happy. Gretchen observes the photos and snaps her fingers.

"I told you! He's with that creepy guy who stole my backpack!"

Claire glares.

"Sylar is his roommate. They're not- Well, they're not that. I know it."

The brunette leans down to her girlfriend's eye level and cocks her head to one side.

"How can you be so sure?"

For a long time, Claire just stares straight ahead before frowning and shaking her head.

"No way, Gretch. There's no way."

Gretchen reaches over and refreshes the page, and sure enough, there at the bottom of the album is a new addition. While it's true that all the photos have cut off a lot of distinguishing features or left out faces entirely, this new image was pretty obvious. Claire could tell Peter was one of the people because he was wearing his uniform. The other man, well...Claire would recognize that mouth anywhere.

She quickly exits out of her internet browser and turns to her girlfriend.

"Let's...do something else. Anything else. Skydiving, maybe."

To her relief, the taller girl just links their hands together and tugs her off in the other direction.

**3\. Share clothes.**

Matt Parkman runs into Peter on the street while he was visiting New York (he may or may not have heard Mohinder was in town, but that's a different story). It was starting to get cold, and Matt can't help but notice the way his friend is dressed: Tight black jeans, clearly too long for him and waaaay too tight in some places; a black button up pea coat, looking too long and too wide for him; and a light gray collared shirt sticking out above the coat.

At first he thinks nothing of it, as he asks Peter how things are going. Peter talks, shifting the small bag of groceries back and forth in his hands, and suddenly, Matt realizes where he's seen the outfit before. Sylar was wearing almost the exact thing when he was in the nightmare in his basement.

He frowns and quickly excuses himself, not wanting to think about the implications of that anymore.

Bennett comes to Peter's front door the next day, after receiving a rather panicked phone call from Parkman. He vaguely recalls that there might be a reason for such an accusation, but for the life of him he can't remember.

Peter greets him at the door, wearing a red, gray and black plaid pajama top and tight black boxer brief bottoms. His hair is a mess, and Noah obviously just woke him up.

"Sorry to wake you," he says, and Peter just blinks a few times and then holds the door open, clearly still groggy and not caring at all that he seems to have forgotten his pants.

Noah walks into the living room and is greeted by the sight of Sylar, looking just as half asleep, with matching bed head. What struck Noah as weird, though, were two things: Number one, that Sylar was wearing pajama pants that matched the top Peter was wearing, only with a black wife beater instead of a top; And two, that they were clearly both asleep...and there was nowhere to sleep other than Peter's bed.

Noah shifts his weight.

"I received a call from Matt Parkman earlier today, asking what I knew about...well, you two."

Peter seems to perk up, shifting nervously in place, but Sylar remains as still and resolute as ever.

"He seems to be worried that...well, I'm sure you can figure it out."

He looks between the two men and their ridiculous matching pajamas and actually laughs out loud.

"I think I'll just tell Parkman to mind his own business. Carry on, gentlemen."

He leaves without a word, amusement still clearly written on his face.

**4\. Show affection in public.**

Hesam watches with confusion as Peter walks out of the hospital and walks right up to a tall, lithe man with thick eyebrows and a gleam in his eye. Peter stands on tip toe, tugging the man into an embrace, and they stay there for several seconds until the tall man catches Hesam's gaze with his own and leans in to whisper something into Peter's ear.

They pull apart and Peter is flushed slightly, making introductions all the same. It turns out the tall man is Peter's roommate and an old friend, someone named Gabriel, and Hesam doesn't push the issue further.

That is until he's walking around the back entrance of the hospital one morning before his shift and he spots the two of them french kissing against the side of the building. He clears his throat loudly and they break apart, clearly surprised that he was able to get the sneak on them.

"That's just how we say goodbye," Peter says, waving a hand in the air. "Italian thing, you know."

Hesam can't help the way his eyebrow arches.

"Uh huh. So the tongue thing was just..."

Peter interjects with, "...Friendly tongue. Totally."

Gabriel seems to perk up considerably, adding, "What's a little tongue action between best friends?"

Hesam stares at the two of them for a long, long time before shaking his head.

"Whatever makes you happy, I guess. See you inside, Peter."

He disappears into the building and can't help but chuckle at the sudden outburst of embarrassed laughter that seems to emanate from outside.

A few weeks later, Luke is sitting on the couch in Peter's apartment, clearly impressed at the changes that have occurred in Sylar's life since he last saw him. For one thing, he was good now, which is...weird. Second, he's living with some Italian paramedic guy with a weird mouth and an over-expressive left eyebrow.

Still, Peter Petrelli seems like a nice enough guy, so Luke lets it slide, relieved that he was no longer in danger of getting his head cut open.

Eventually his visit bleeds over into the next few days and his hosts graciously offer the couch to him, and he likes New York alright, so he accepts. One morning, he's half asleep on his side when he overhears some noises coming from the bathroom area. A door is being opened and light foot steps pad against the floor as someone walks towards the kitchen. Luke watches as Peter comes into sight, wearing a pair of jeans and not much else, and Luke can just make out the tattoos that grace his skin, on his side, across part of his collarbone, on his soulder and down his bicep. He can't quite make out what they say, but he swears he sees something along the lines of "Just another brick in the wall..." going down the medic's triceps.

He's about to go back to sleep when he hears Peter say, with perfect clarity, "Hey, babe, do you know if we have any shaving cream stashed somewhere?"

Sylar comes into sight now, sliding his arms around Peter's middle as he buries his face in his hair.

"I'm afraid, my darling, that we do not," he replies, and for a moment, Luke wonders if he should pinch himself and see if he's still sleeping. He sits up and the two of them turn to look at him before pushing apart, looking casual and not panicked at all.

"Did you just call him babe?" Luke asks, and Peter cocks that eyebrow of his.

"I called him Gabe. You know, his name."

Luke frowns and narrows his eyes.

"I'm pretty sure you said babe...and you, Sylar, you called him your darling." They both stare at him, then glance at each other, then back at Luke, and Peter sighs, "Oh, to fuck with it," and pulls the taller man down for a quick peck.

"Happy?"

Luke claps a golf clap and nods his head.

"Don't worry, I could care less. I just figured you might be tired of trying to keep it a secret from me."

There's another moment of silence and then Luke is laying back down, rolling over so he can go back to sleep. Things are a lot easier after that.

**5\. Get caught in the act.**

In the beginning, after the stopped Samuel- and Claire from doing anything stupid- Peter and Gabriel had visited the carnival a few times, and Edgar was always happy to oblige his new friends, since they did help him make the family right again.

The two of them, he noted, had some weird tension between them, like a thin wire waiting to snap. He pondered, briefly, if he should talk to Damian about that, but promptly dismisses the idea since it would be too presumptive of him. Not that it's stopped him before, but he's trying to get them to agree to watch over the family for a few days while he takes care of some things.

He makes sure his guests are well fed, warm enough, happy and feeling good before heading off to double check some things for the night. He doesn't even notice the two of them disappear into a fun house until Amanda comes running over, eyes wide and a her mouth strained to hide her smile.

"Sylar and that other guy are making out in the fun house," she says, and Edgar glances up at the building in question.

"It's about damn time," he sighs, and promptly goes to find an empty trailer he an lend the two of them for the night. He peeps his head into the fun house in question, once the trailer is acquired, and can't help but smirk as he spots their reflection in the hall of mirrors, warped but distinguishing nonetheless. They're clearly lost in their own world, kissing each other tenderly and holding on to the other like they would float away if they didn't.

He knocks very loudly. They pull apart, but keep their hands on each other.

"The last trailer on the far right side, next to the generator, is yours if you want it tonight," he calls, and Sylar quickly shouts out his thank you as he tugs Peter back up to him.

Edgar doesn't tell them the reason he put them by the generator was so it would drown out them all night, but he figures it's a good solution.

**1\. Fucking tell them, flat out, the best way you know how.**

Peter is standing in his mother's living room, watching as his mom sits on the couch and stares at nothing. He doesn't regret what he's about to tell her, although he thinks she might already know. He begins anyway.

"Ma, I love him, and he loves me."

She looks up, and for the first time, Peter can just make out the dark circles under his mother's eyes.

"Peter, you have to think this through-"

"-I have, believe me, it's all I ever think about, and you know what? I don't care what you, or anyone else, has to say. I'm in love with Gabriel." He waits and gauges his mother's reaction. She takes a deep breath, blinks a few times, and looks back up at her son. "And I know that he loves me back, ma, I just know it. Right now, that's the simplest thing in our lives."

For a long time, Angela just sits there, clearly trying to keep herself composed, until at last, she stands up and lets Peter pull her into an embrace.

"I can't say this is something I want," she whispers, and Peter pulls away to watch her face. "But...if you think this is what _you_ want...I suppose I'll have to deal with it and see what happens."

Her son's face lights up immediately and he pulls her into a squeezing embrace, planting a kiss on her forehead.

"Thank you so much, Ma. You have no idea how much this means to me."

She sighs, reaching up to gently pat at Peter's cheek.

"Just promise me you won't move to Massachusetts and get married, sweetheart."

Peter smiles, already buttoning his coat up and pulling his bag back around his shoulders.

"Oh, of course not, don't be silly." He opens up the door to the apartment. "We're not getting married."

He's just out the door before he pokes his head back in, adding, "Not yet, anyway."

He's gone before Angela has time to interject and she promptly decides she needs to go lay down for a long, long time, until this headache nagging at her brain goes away. Then maybe she'll get something to drink.

...Scratch that, a lot to drink.

**Author's Note:**

> Written a long time ago for LJ. And also was private for a long time because I ended up hating it.


End file.
